


Intertwined

by LeeASherlook



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Insecurity, M/M, Minor Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru, Slice of Life, Trains, hand holding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-18
Updated: 2021-02-18
Packaged: 2021-03-13 12:19:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29526291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeeASherlook/pseuds/LeeASherlook
Summary: Oikawa witnesses Kageyama and Hinata subtly holding hands on the train one morning. A small, slice-of-life story starring a baffled Seijoh setter.
Relationships: Hinata Shouyou/Kageyama Tobio, Iwaizumi Hajime & Oikawa Tooru
Comments: 4
Kudos: 100





	Intertwined

The hour was early and the sun was golden, streaming in through the windows in swift, warming rays as the scenery flew by with the gentle rumbles of a smooth engine. The carriages were quiet that Saturday, their frequent weekday commuters taking advantage of the happy weekend, still tucked in their beds along the quiet towns that lay on the outskirts of Sendai, blissfully unaware of the train that made its carefree journey away from the city and into quieter landscapes.

Oikawa was glad of the peace, his soft yawn hidden behind a lazy palm as he leant against a far window on the third carriage. One hand was lightly wrapped around a silver rail, but the journey wasn't disturbed by many turns or inclines, so he didn't trouble himself to grip it tightly. Nor did he make use of the bountiful seats, content to stand for the remaining fifteen minutes. His gaze was distantly placed on the scenery flying past, not quite taking in each detail, but appreciating the colours that blew by in a hazy wash. Though heat radiated through the glass, it was still early spring, and his head was dipped low into the scarf wrapped around his neck, tied tidily atop his peacoat, almost hiding the earbuds that played a solo performance of quiet music in his ears.

He paid his few carriage companions little mind, barely glancing over at the hungover businessman a few metres down, or the woman reading a newspaper to his left; their presence so dull that he didn't bother to look away from his window view when the train made a stop and restarted at yet another station.

Sighing, he glanced down at his phone, noting the time it would take to get to his grandmother's, pick Takeru up, get back on the train, drop his nephew home and get to practice before Iwaizumi could kill him for being late.

Yawning quietly once more, he raised his chin from the confines of his scarf, the heat now getting to him a little, and stood taller, turning his body away from the window to glance up at the digital board above him.

Ten minutes to go, not too bad.

Letting his eyes wander a little in this moment of downtime, he noted that the businessman had fallen asleep and the lady was gone, replaced by an older man with a large bunch of flowers on the seat beside him. As he was staring at the rather intimidating sunflowers standing tall in the bouquet, the train finally betrayed him and gave a small lurch as it turned. Slightly startled, he took two steps to the left and gripped the rail firmly, righting himself almost immediately and standing proud once more, just in time to catch sight of a most alarming situation.

* * *

Kageyama Tobio and the shorty were sitting side-by-side a mere stone's throw from him, the shrimp's orange hair practically glowing under the brightness of the window behind him. Oikawa stared for several moments, blinking as his eyes began to adjust, confirming that, yes, it was the troublesome duo, looking so out of place in a setting that didn't involve a net and a court.

They clearly hadn't noticed him when they had boarded, and while their seats were only a few metres down, set diagonally to where Oikawa now stiffly stood, neither showed any indication of scanning their surroundings, leaving his presence unnoticed.

He wasn't sure whether to be relieved or insulted.

Taking the opportunity to observe the strange twosome outside of their natural habitat, he noted the boys were in casual clothing. Hinata wore baggy jeans and a pale-blue hoodie, all overshadowed by an oversized field jacket. A quick glance down confirmed that the laces of his trainers were tucked into the sides of his shoes precariously.

Kageyama's denim was a little more form-fitting, topped with a chunky grey knit and wool coat, his feet favouring high-tops. It was jarring to see him out of any kind of uniform.

He considered what a strange picture they were together like this, and yet, they looked so content when they weren't fighting. But what were they doing on a train, on a Saturday morning, clearly not heading to practice?

And more bizarre still, they were sitting oddly close. Not talking.

Now, the train seats were close together, that was true. They had to be to allow the commuter capacity expected from Monday to Friday. But Kageyama and Hinata were almost touching shoulders, the ginger to the right, the setter on the left.

Oikawa frowned at the line of their bodies, eyes tracing the angle of where their shoulders sat, following their arms down to-

His brain stopped, rebooted, started and stopped again.

No. Surely, he was mistaken…

Eyes wide, no hint of his cunning, discerning character visible in his expression, Oikawa took in the sight of hands lightly intertwined.

At the wrong angle, he might have missed it, for the joined palms and fingers were settled low between the two figures, out of sight of most passers-by. If he hadn't been observing, he might have dismissed the closeness. But no, Kageyama Tobio and Hinata Shouyou were _holding hands_.

How was it, that the two loud-mouthed students looked so at peace, so carefree in that moment; neither talking and yet connected.

Hinata's gaze was fixed on his lap, his free hand clutching an open manga, eyes scanning the page slowly. Oikawa could almost make out the illustrations there, before his brain lost interest and snapped back to the hands, blinking owlishly at the interlaced fingers once more.

Here on this train, in this morning light, he felt as if he had stepped into another universe. It was wild, inconceivable and yet so real and so… unsettling.

 _Unsettled_ , that's how he felt, as he swallowed hard against something uncomfortable in his throat, eyes never leaving the twosome.

If he could have been himself in that moment, if he had his team by his side or even just Iwa, he might have marched over there and broke up the scene by making the two fidget under his scrutiny. Or maybe he would have poked fun, playfully asking if they were on a date, watching them flush red with embarrassment.

But he did nothing of the sort. He just stared, star-struck, but not in a pleasant way. Maybe 'truck-struck' would be a better way to describe him, as he did feel as if a lorry had just run over him, crushed under confusion and something else he couldn't identify as he looked at the casual scene in front of him, the picture so out of place, yet so natural it was painful.

How could Kageyama, the mopey mop-head himself, be content to hold the hand of anyone, let alone his exuberant teammate? And why would anyone, the shrimp included, want to hold the hand of such a sullen individual?

But that was just it, the Kageyama in front of him wasn't sullen. His face was a wash of neutrality, eyes simply gazing off to the side as his teammate read beside him.

Oikawa stopped the music in his ears, some silly part of him hoping his full attention would bring logic to the situation. But it only made it worse, for they finally spoke, and he could hear their low conversation with absolute clarity.

"Where should we get breakfast?"

Kageyama's gaze didn't waver as he spoke, and Hinata didn't look up to answer him, eyes still fixed to the page in front. But he scrunched his nose in thought.

"Maybe just at the corner store? And find somewhere to sit? I know it's chilly but it's the first dry day in forever."

"Sounds good."

The familiarity in their tone and the ease of conversation was almost alarming to Oikawa, and he had to look away for a moment, accidentally making eye contact with the flower man. Ugh.

He dared to look back.

Hinata was turning the page of the comic with his free hand, the move awkward, but he managed it, grinning slightly. He was pleased – because he didn't have to let go of Kageyama's hand in the process. At least, that's what Oikawa's traitorous mind decided, and something prickled down the back of his neck at the thought.

He couldn't explain why but being privy to this was not something he wanted. It was folly, he knew. To waste such an opportunity. Surely this could have been used against the two, in some small way even. He wasn't cruel, but it could have been fun to taunt. But he couldn't do it, he just wanted to get away. Away from this bizarre display of… well, humanity, that he could see in the two first years in front of him. Hinata with someone, he could have dealt with. But Kageyama with anyone, let alone the shorty, was beyond him. And Oikawa hated things that were beyond him.

Kageyama so often seemed beyond him, or would be one day. Was this just another point he was building against his old mentor? But no. This wasn't a game. This was real. Too real.

He needed to get off the train. He glanced up.

Five minutes.

Resolved to turn back to the window and up the volume on his abandoned playlist, Oikawa almost did just that, but words stopped him, his mind too inquisitive to ignore the playing scene before him.

"Any thoughts on food later?"

Kageyama's blunt tone made Hinata finally look away from his book and roll his eyes, glancing up at the other.

"We haven't even had breakfast yet, Greedyama."

That earned him a grumpy look, yet the hand holding never wavered.

"So?" the setter grunted.

But the redhead didn't push further, his nose scrunching up in thought again.

"Teppanyaki," the shorter finally said, face seemingly pleased with his suggestion.

"Teppanyaki," Kageyama confirmed, apparently not at all upset that the decision happened so quickly and without question.

"I'll buy lunch, if you get breakfast?" Hinata offered, earning a side-eye look from his companion before a short nod followed.

"I think you're getting the short straw in that deal, you idiot. But okay."

The ginger shot him a look but then shrugged. "You bought dinner last time. I don't mind."

The taller made a noise of agreement, then a sigh through his nose. "We spend too much money on food."

Hinata looked amused. "That's 'cause neither of us can cook. Not that my mom would ever even let me try, she chases me out of the kitchen."

"I can cook," Kageyama muttered, somewhat defensive.

"You can cook one thing!"

"Yeah, and it's the best thing!"

Hinata laughed then, the sound bright and fresh. It almost hit Oikawa like a wave, pulling him out of the depths of the conversation and pushing him back into the role of distant observer once more.

"Yes, it is pretty good. Can't say I ever get tired of yakiniku ramen. Although, you kinda cheat – since your dad usually preps the pork…"

That little jibe earned a huff from the dark-haired boy.

"Well, my parents are in Tokyo visiting Miwa at the moment. If I make it tonight, from scratch, will that shut you up?"

A sunny grin was the answer, but more startling than anything that came before it were the quiet words that followed – Oikawa's ears unapologetically straining to hear them, knowing that he should have turned on his music to avoid them at all costs.

"Can I stay over?" It was Hinata asking, his voice not particularly shy, just honest and strangely polite.

And it was Kageyama rolling his eyes this time, unconsciously – or consciously – leaning closer, their shoulders now touching, hands never faltering in their grip.

"Of course, dumbass."

* * *

Oikawa's stop was his saviour, his body retreating to the far doors without his permission, head dipping into his scarf to ensure no added attention might be drawn to him. But he needn't have worried, despite the shock and discomfort of watching that encounter, he knew without a doubt that those two were lost in their own little world on that train.

He breathed in the cold air as he briskly walked through the station, never once glancing back, resolutely putting the entire encounter physically and mentally behind him.

It was only when he got to his grandmother's house that he took a breath, running a hand through his hair and straightening his coat. Glancing at the inviting garden that lay in front, he took a pause and pulled out his phone, fingers nimbly dialling Iwaizumi without any thought to the action.

He felt weird relief when he picked up, the familiarity of his deep tone grounding him, chasing away the memories of connected hands and the odd – dare he think it – _insecurity_ of observing it. He told Iwa nothing of what he had seen, that wasn't the point of the call. He simply chatted about practice later, and his impending trip back with Takeru. Normal things, which his best friend listened to with ease and familiarity. They were comfortable, as natural with each other as any two people could be – but in their way. The spiker still grouched at him for waking him so early, before almost complimenting him on his willingness to spend time with his nephew.

Oikawa was grinning by the time he got off the phone, the interaction simple and wonderful. He strolled up the garden path with a renewed confidence, knowing, but never willing to admit, that he had needed that.

He needed his friend to confirm, to legitimise, the fact that Oikawa Tooru had someone important in his life too; someone _he_ was intertwined with. They might not hold hands, but that was just in the details.

_End_


End file.
